In Vino Veritas

We are travelling home today from our vacation to Washington State.  We ended our trip in Kirkland, in  Washington wine country. Wine is big business here.

We sampled quite a few wines we can’t get at home, and delighted in the descriptions of wine in the restaurants we ate at. This was our favorite:

Fanti Brunello di Montalcio: A big powerful red with dense tannins and black cherry flavors. Balanced in a muscular way, this remains tight and brooding despite the long, fresh, finish.

We had fun crafting personal descriptors for each other. Husband came up with this for me:

RENEE: Sweet, German dessert wine. Full bodied and robust.  Good for long cellaring.

Daughter, perhaps more accurate, came up with this for me:

Mom: Effervescent and fruity with an occasional sharp finish. Needs to chill.

What kind of wine are you? How would you be described on a restaurant menu?

Working Vacation

Since we left on vacation on Wednesday, I have replied to about 30 emails from the regulatory board of which I am the chairperson. Husband has had phone calls and emails  from tribal court and from the addiction treatment center on the reservation where he works. Daughter is somewhat annoyed with us. I can’t blame her.  Really, vacation should be more like this:

I do not plan to work after I retire.  I need to keep telling myself this so that I don’t work after I retire. I need to spend retirement having  photo ops with enormous, two-legged garlic bulbs.

If you are retired, is retirement what you imagined? If you are not retired, what do you imagine retirement will be like?

Comfort Zone

We are in Tacoma and I will soon be forced out of my comfort zone at an art and wine sipping event.  We are going to a wine bar stocked with an art instructor who will teach us how to paint dahlias on canvas with acrylic paints.

I cannot draw, sketch, or paint. It has been that way since I was a child. I don’t think it has anything to do with lack of training. I just don’t possess the capacity. Perhaps after a glass or two of wine I won’t care how my painting of dahlias turns out.  Husband and daughter are both good at art and are excited about doing this. I will enjoy being with them, but it makes me anxious to think about the actual painting part of it.

I think it is  good to try new things like this, but I wish I could plunge joyfully into them instead of creep hesitantly toward them.

How do you feel about trying new things? Are you a creeper or a plunger? How have such experiences turned out? 

Silence of the Canes

I’m a chatter – I freely admit it. No life stories, but a comment for the cashier, a quick quip for others waiting in line with me, hello to the librarian. Normally I pick raspberries with my BFF Sara.  We chat away while we pick and if there are folks on the other side of the canes, we usually talk with them a bit.

This year schedules just didn’t coincide so I ended up at the raspberry patch on my own. I was sent down a long row of canes with just one lone gentleman on the other side.  He had just started as well and we were picking at about the same speed.  We even, by unspoken agreement, shared the “in between” space.  Sometimes he would pick berries from the middle and sometimes he left them for me.

But he didn’t chat. I asked just a few questions to see if we could find some common ground:

VS: What do you do with all your berries?
H:   We spread them on cookies sheets and freeze them?
VS: Me too.  After I make some jam.

Silence

VS: Where are you from?
H: Northfield
VS: That’s convenient.  (berry patch is in Northfield)
H:

Silence

VS: Are you here alone today?
H: No, my wife is here.

Silence

Three hints are enough for me. Clearly he didn’t feel the need to chat, so I left him alone and we continued to pick silently.  His wife eventually showed up and they outpaced me although even as they got farther away from me I could hear that they weren’t speaking to each other either. So at least it wasn’t me.

Did your folks tell you never to talk to strangers?

 

 

 

 

Last Minute Rush

We  leave for Tacoma in the morning. Tonight we learned a credit card was compromised and had to be cancelled.  The tomatoes conspired to have a mass ripening, so I am putting up tomato puree. Why does this all happen when we have so many other things to do?

What preparations do you make when you travel?  What glitches have you experienced while travelling or preparing to travel?  

 

Chili Madness

Last weekend a local grocery store had a special on Hatch Chilies. Those are New Mexico chilies that are traditionally fire roasted in Hatch, New Mexico in large, round, rotating, propane-fueled roasters.

The store brought in 1500 lbs of New Mexico chilies. They are an Anaheim variety, long and green, of varying heat levels.  There was a roaster set up outside the store.  Roasting was scheduled from 4 pm to 7 pm on Friday,  and 11-2 on Saturday.  Husband and I were serendipitously at the store at 3:30 on Friday, and we bought about 10 lbs of mild/medium chilies to have roasted.  The skins get charred in the roaster but the pepper flesh isn’t.  After they cooled and steamed in plastic bags we took the skins off and froze them in baggies. They will make nice additions to lots of dishes this winter.

The response to the promotion was amazing. Perhaps events like this are common in the Cities, but this was the first of its kind here, and people went crazy for the chilies. As we were having ours roasted, a woman from Watford City, a community about 80 miles northwest of us,  came with 200 lbs of chilies to roast. She said the grocery store’s sister city in Watford was rationing how much she could get, but she could purchase as much here as she wanted.  She figured 200 lbs would be enough for her and her friends. She said she used to live in New Mexico and couldn’t believe that she could have roasted Hatch chilies here. We talked to several former New Mexicans while we stood in line, and all said the same thing. They said that nothing reminded them of autumn than the smell of roasting chilies.  They were so grateful to get these peppers.

By 7:00 pm, the store had sold 1400 lbs of the chilies, leaving a paltry 100 lbs for the next day.  The store plans to get another shipment of Hatch chilies in for next weekend.

What smells are evocative for you?  What gives you a sense of home?

A Night at the Opera

Today’s post is from Occasional Caroline

Last summer or perhaps it was the summer of 2016, my sister heard about and attended several Grand Oak Opry concerts. She loved it, raved about it, told everyone about it. I knew from her enthusiasm that I would enjoy it, but I didn’t make time to join her at a concert until August 11. I’m pretty sure I won’t miss another one, except due to circumstances beyond my control. It can’t be adequately described, you have to see it for yourself to “get it.”

The Grand Oak Opry is a unique concert series that takes place in the backyard of Sean Kershaw and Timothy Hawkins, in St. Paul’s West Seventh neighborhood. They started by hosting two concerts in the summer of 2014, and have grown every year since. The 2018 schedule includes seven concerts, with two still to come; We Are the Willows on 9/1 and David Huckfelt & Erik Koskinen Band on 9/30.

 

The show I saw could not have been more fantastic. It was presented in partnership with the Schubert Club, and the performers were Maria Jette and Dan Chouinard! The Schubert Club delivered a Steinway grand piano to the backyard venue early in the day and picked it up when the event was over at about 9:30.

 

So, yes, the concert I attended will be hard to beat. Dan Chouinard played a rendition of Rhapsody in Blue that was absolutely amazing. Maria Jette displayed a remarkably diverse range of musical artistry; the whole night was magical. But, I think the Grand Oak Opry experience would be sensational if the entertainment was an elementary school band with a tone-deaf director. The setting is under a huge oak tree in the backyard of 273 W Goodhue St, St Paul. A crystal chandelier hangs in the branches of the tree, which is estimated to be about 200 years old and is still going and growing strong. The backyard décor also includes several brightly painted doors, each with a lantern hanging on a bracket. They are doors to nowhere, but provide a whimsical, colorful, touch to the setting. To put a cherry on top, as the sun began to set, fireflies came out to add to the magical ambiance.

 

There are no tickets or reservations. Shows start at 7:30 and gate opens at 6:30. Concert goers just show up with their chairs or blankets, bringing food and drink if they choose. A $10 donation is suggested from each guest; all the money collected goes directly to the evening’s performers. Children are welcome to attend the concert or to play in the front yard of the pre-Civil War era home, if the music isn’t quite to their taste. Pets are not allowed. Neighbors volunteer as greeters and information givers, helpfully pointing out the path to the restroom (in the house), a table with water and bug spray, and answering questions. It’s an amazingly friendly and welcoming atmosphere for both newbies and veterans. Attendance has varied from 40-45 at the first show in 2014 to about 500, including overflow into the neighboring yard, earlier this summer (I think it might have been Chastity Brown that night).

 

Facebook (https://www.facebook.com/grandoakopry/) is the primary source for schedule and other information about concerts. They do have a WordPress blog but a lot of the information there refers to past years and the Facebook page is more up to date.

OK, that’s it. I’m done. I liked it. A lot. Anyone for a Baboon field trip on 9/1 or 9/30?

 

Have you had an experience that was better than you could have hoped for or expected?

Oops!

On Thursday evening I sat down to write Friday’s blog post when I noticed that there was a new post submitted by our dear, absent leader.  I read through it. It was rather long and somewhat odd, the draft of minutes for a meeting at his work.  “Well”, I thought, “this is interesting. I don’t quite get it, but how nice he submitted it”. There was no header photo or question.  tim commented on Thursday about the “bait and switch” that our dear leader often used when writing posts, so perhaps this was something of the same.

I excitedly contacted VS and asked her to take a look and give her opinion. She thought that it was an error,  and that he had mistakenly submitted something to us that should have gone somewhere else.  She emailed him and he responded to let us know she was correct. He thought he was submitting his draft minutes to another Word Press account, but submitted it to the Trail instead. I deleted the errant post.

I recently encountered glaring errors in an evaluation I wrote several months ago that I have to submit to the court.  I usually can trust my clerical staff to make necessary corrections when I proof read so that I don’t have to proof read it a second time, but the person who typed this particular evaluation was new to the process as well as to my handwriting when I edit. There were spelling errors that I know I asked her to correct that were not corrected before the report was uploaded into our medical records system. An entire paragraph was in the wrong place. My usual transcriptionist and I sat down and made the necessary corrections and entered an appended report into the system. Both versions will go to the court, and I will have to explain on the stand why there are two versions of the report. Nothing changed except the spelling errors and the location of the paragraph,  but it is embarrassing all the same. I wish I could delete the whole thing like I did the errant post from Thursday.

Tell about your errors and mishaps and  “oops” moments.

Wardrobe Malfunction

I wear Birkenstock sandals (sans socks) to work in the summer. The ones I have are five years old. My son  tells me that I should replace them every year.  (He has terribly flat feet and probably got that advice from his podiatrist. ) That  seems wasteful and silly to me,  but recently I have noticed some issues with my sandals that make me think it is time for replacements.

The soles of my feet are contacting the foot bed of my sandals and are making continuous fart noises when I walk. It is getting worse every day. I tried tightening the straps, but that didn’t help. My young clients think it is hilarious. I worry coworkers think it is gastric instead of pedal.  If I wear socks I will confirm in everyone’s mind that I am odd beyond redemption.  What is a girl to do?

Tell about costumes, clothes, or uniforms that gave you grief.  What wardrobe malfunctions have you experienced?

Attack of the Acorns

It was a hot day, sunny with a bit of a breeze. The big pavilion next to Sea Salt was blocked for a family gathering and all the nearby tables, even the ones with no shade, were filled up.  We had a tablecloth that we could have spread out on the ground but we thought it would end up being a re-telling of The Princess & the Pea.  A little ways off we could see what looked like some empty picnic tables, in the shade no less, so we trooped over.

Minnehaha Park is heavily forested with oak trees. None of them are famous (although there are plenty of famous oak trees if you believe the internet) but they provided a nice, cool bit of shade.  We settled in and then fairly quickly realized why no one else had claimed the spot.

Acorns are oak nuts; they usually contain just one seed and can take between 6 to 24 months to mature before they can sprout into an oak tree. All I can say is that the acorns in the oak trees above us were ready to go.  The terminal velocity of a falling acorn from a tall 40-foot tree is 22 miles per hour.  Most of the acorns didn’t hit us directly, but they made a whooping loud noise when they hit books, plates, phones and the tables themselves.  Even though we stayed for a couple of hours, when we got up to leave we felt like we were fleeing from a dangerous situation.

When did you first fall in love?